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stonepicnicking_okapiTitle: Two Men Contemplating the Moon
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Characters/Pairings: Watson/Holmes
For:garonne who inspired this by a comment on how long it would take to read the works of Victor Hugo
Word Count: 500
Rating: Gen
Warning: vampire & werewolf AU. Holmes is a vampire. Watson is a werewolf. Inspired by the painting Two Men Contemplating the Moon by Caspar David Fredrich
“Holmes, maybe it’s just the author’s use of light and shadow, but…”
“No, you’re correct. That’s me.”
Vampires, or nightwalkers as they usually prefer to be called, are normally solitary, misanthropic creatures who shun the company of others. But there are exceptions, and, indeed, a few nightwalkers might be found in all ranks of society. There are nightwalkers who are consulting detectives, and there are nightwalkers who are museum curators and art gallery owners. Holmes had called in a favour owed by one of the latter, and so he and I were permitted a brief sojourn amongst some very pretty pictures and sculptures after dusk.
We provided our own illumination.
It was during this sojourn that I paused to study the painting of two figures in dress of fifty years earlier gazing at the moon. The figures’ backs are to the painter; nevertheless, one of them was very familiar.
“Shall I tell you an interesting story, my dear Watson?”
“I’d like nothing more.”
“I turned that man,” he pointed to the figure on the left, “by his own request, and I do not regret it.” He shifted his gaze to mine to judge my reaction.
My surprise was undisguised. I’d never known Holmes to admit to turning anyone into a creature like himself. I suppose if I thought about it, I would suspect something like that in his young wildling days when he was still understanding his power and his limitations.
“This man,” he pointed again, “had one all-consuming obsession.”
“Yes?”
“And that was the literary works of Victor Hugo. He read translations as they became available, but quickly decided to learn French to be able to read them in their originals. He stumbled upon me in a library of a well-known university, naturally, and made some not unintelligent deductions about my condition. I confessed to him my true nature. Why, I don’t know. Maybe it was his earnestness. Maybe it was because he seemed as alone in the world as I was,. We developed a rapport—I would not go so far as to call it a friendship. And then he asked me to turn him so that he might devote the rest of his existence to reading and re-reading the works of Victor Hugo.”
I laughed. “And you did it?!”
“At first, I told him he was mad, but he worked on me for a year, and I finally relented. To my surprise, he showed no regret afterwards. On the contrary, he was elated!”
“What happened to him?”
“He remains at that university, haunting the catacombs of that great library, lurking in musty shadows, filling the fresh young impressionable minds with terror as slivers of respite from his true vocation.”
“Extraordinary!”
“Indeed. The artist fellow spotted us one night, one night when he was pressing his case and I was resisting, and I was pointing out to him that it would be an existence of endless moon.”
“I should like to meet him.”
Holmes nodded. “In the spring.”
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Characters/Pairings: Watson/Holmes
For:
garonne who inspired this by a comment on how long it would take to read the works of Victor HugoWord Count: 500
Rating: Gen
Warning: vampire & werewolf AU. Holmes is a vampire. Watson is a werewolf. Inspired by the painting Two Men Contemplating the Moon by Caspar David Fredrich
“Holmes, maybe it’s just the author’s use of light and shadow, but…”
“No, you’re correct. That’s me.”
Vampires, or nightwalkers as they usually prefer to be called, are normally solitary, misanthropic creatures who shun the company of others. But there are exceptions, and, indeed, a few nightwalkers might be found in all ranks of society. There are nightwalkers who are consulting detectives, and there are nightwalkers who are museum curators and art gallery owners. Holmes had called in a favour owed by one of the latter, and so he and I were permitted a brief sojourn amongst some very pretty pictures and sculptures after dusk.
We provided our own illumination.
It was during this sojourn that I paused to study the painting of two figures in dress of fifty years earlier gazing at the moon. The figures’ backs are to the painter; nevertheless, one of them was very familiar.
“Shall I tell you an interesting story, my dear Watson?”
“I’d like nothing more.”
“I turned that man,” he pointed to the figure on the left, “by his own request, and I do not regret it.” He shifted his gaze to mine to judge my reaction.
My surprise was undisguised. I’d never known Holmes to admit to turning anyone into a creature like himself. I suppose if I thought about it, I would suspect something like that in his young wildling days when he was still understanding his power and his limitations.
“This man,” he pointed again, “had one all-consuming obsession.”
“Yes?”
“And that was the literary works of Victor Hugo. He read translations as they became available, but quickly decided to learn French to be able to read them in their originals. He stumbled upon me in a library of a well-known university, naturally, and made some not unintelligent deductions about my condition. I confessed to him my true nature. Why, I don’t know. Maybe it was his earnestness. Maybe it was because he seemed as alone in the world as I was,. We developed a rapport—I would not go so far as to call it a friendship. And then he asked me to turn him so that he might devote the rest of his existence to reading and re-reading the works of Victor Hugo.”
I laughed. “And you did it?!”
“At first, I told him he was mad, but he worked on me for a year, and I finally relented. To my surprise, he showed no regret afterwards. On the contrary, he was elated!”
“What happened to him?”
“He remains at that university, haunting the catacombs of that great library, lurking in musty shadows, filling the fresh young impressionable minds with terror as slivers of respite from his true vocation.”
“Extraordinary!”
“Indeed. The artist fellow spotted us one night, one night when he was pressing his case and I was resisting, and I was pointing out to him that it would be an existence of endless moon.”
“I should like to meet him.”
Holmes nodded. “In the spring.”
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